


Genoshan Days

by flightinflame



Series: The Genoshan Prince [7]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Big Mutant Family, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Moments from "The Genoshan Prince" universe.First chapter is a contents page.Latest: Max's journey to Genosha
Relationships: Emma Frost & Erik Lehnsherr, Erik Lehnsherr & Kurt Wagner, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: The Genoshan Prince [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1446409
Comments: 20
Kudos: 21





	1. Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Brief scenes from the Genoshan Prince series, feel free to request.  
> (And yes, there is absolutely going to be a smutfic in this verse at some point called Genoshan Nights)

****

**Chapters:  
** 1 - Contents page  


2 - Kurt hears tales of monsters, and finds himself rescued by one of them. (897 words)

3 - Max's journey to Genosha (829 words)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt hears tales of monsters, and finds himself rescued by one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Klaaraa for suggesting this!
> 
> Written for "Therapy" for hurt comfort bingo

For a long time Kurt had only known pain. He remembered there had been a time before, but then... then the people who had cared for him were gone, and he was seen as nothing more than an animal. He had spent countless days curled up in a cage, dragged out for people to stare at. He'd lost track of where he was, who he was with. 

He knew his skin was patterned now, covered in scars the man had cut into his skin. He didn't know why. He didn't understand them, didn't comprehend what it meant, only knew that it hurt. He hoped every night for peace, and tried to believe things would be better. He learned a little of their language.

He heard rumors of a war. Of monsters fighting men, and tearing them apart, of figures on a battlefield struck down by lightning, or shredded by blades. The monsters came closer, and the men around him grew afraid. The man who had kept him in a cage dragged him from it, picking up his knife.

Kurt flinched, curling up around himself, his tail wrapping around his leg for comfort, expecting another set of scars. He tried to breathe deeply, so that he didn't jolt a few feet away, which would lead only to more pain. But then the man grabbed the knife and brought it to his throat, and he knew it was too late, that there was no help coming.

The first cut was agony and then it fell away, the clothes he wore slowly stained with his blood. He heard a gurgled scream from behind him, and turned to find the man dead, the knife at his own throat.

A man approached. He was wearing metal from wrist to elbow, a long red cloak flowing out from around his shoulders. The leader of the monsters. Kurt cowered, and the man crouched down beside him.  
"You're safe now." The man said, and he spoke Kurt's tongue. He looked up at him in confusion, but the man was bandaging his throat, speaking now in a different language, one Kurt didn't know. He whimpered, and the man shushed him.

"You... you understand me?" he whispered, afraid.

The man nodded, and held out his hand.  
"My name is Erik. And yours?"

"Kurt."

"You are a long way from home, Kurt. That's alright. We'll get you back."

That night, he ate well for the first time in years. There was plentiful food, and he stayed close to Erik, who permitted it. That was when he first caught sight of another man, wearing the tunics that were used in the north. The man looked like him. His skin was a brilliant red rather than his own deep blue, but he had a tail. As he watched, the man jolted over, bowing deeply to Erik, and then staring at him.

The two men spoke together in the language he didn't know, and he curled up slightly, patting his tail, and watching the others around the fire. There were many of them, all dressed as warriors, and he was afraid. He tried to smile at a blonde woman nearby, and ducked his head at the glare she shot him.

"It's alright, Kurt." Erik told him. "You're doing well, you're safe now. This is Azazel, he's my friend. He asks if you can teleport."

"I... I don't know."

"Do you ever move without...without meaning to?"

"A few times." Kurt admitted. He couldn't control it, so it had to be better to admit it than risk his flaws being discovered later.

"I see." Erik looked at him. "I believe that Azazel here can help you, he and his husband... he is a teleporter."

"I don't... I trust you. You kept me safe." He whispered, and Erik nodded.

"I did keep you safe, and I will continue to do that. But part of that is me finding the best place for you. Trust me, this man is going to be able to help you."

***

Kurt had felt doubt that day, choosing to stick close to Erik rather than attempt to make friends with the newcomer, his mind full of all the ways that things could go wrong, that he could make his situation worse. 

When it had been time to go the monster's home, he had held onto Erik and the safety that he represented.

"Can you do this?" Erik asked, waving a hand. 

Kurt mirrored the gesture, and Erik smiled at him.

"Good. Azazel's husband cannot hear, so he speaks with his hands. I am sure you will learn, but being able to greet him is a start."

Kurt nodded, running over to Azazel and waving. Azazel waved back, and Erik walked closer to them, placing a protective hand on Kurt's shoulder as he addressed Azazel. Azazel seemed to listen, and nodded.  
"I was just telling him that you are a teleporter, and that he can help you. We're going to try and teach you some signs, so you can talk to his husband. Do you want to do that?"

Kurt hesitated. He wasn't sure he could trust this other man, the one with a tail who shared his gift. But he trusted Erik. If Erik trusted Azazel, then Kurt would do the same. Shyly, he nodded, and waved up at the man. After a moment, Azazel smiled back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have anything you want to see in this universe let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max's journey to Genosha.
> 
> For "desecration" on my hurt-comfort bingo card.

Max had never meant to put himself and his family at risk. He had wanted to make his mother proud, and she was always so excited to see each and every thing that he managed, whether it was recognising a plant when they went walking together, or helping her with the farm that they worked on. 

So when he'd found that he could make things, he'd shown her. He'd shown her the pot that he'd made out of clay, playing with some of the other children and learning a skill. And he'd shown her the metal badge he'd made from a broken cup.

Her face had lit up, and she had embraced him, but she'd told him that he had to keep it quiet. That it had to be their secret, what he could do, because she didn't want him taken.

He'd asked why, and she'd said that someone might want her little boy to be a soldier, and he'd been horrified by the idea. Max didn't want to fight, or to hurt anyone. He just wanted to make things, to make people happy, to make his mother laugh. She'd pressed a kiss to his forehead, and told him he was special, and that it would all work out. He wasn't alone, just unusual. That night, he fell asleep to a bedtime story of a land full of people like him.

***

He'd practised his ability in secret, making his mother smile as she watched him, and his father was proud. He'd help out working on the farm in the mornings, and then take a couple of hours to practice his skill, honing his power over metal until it obeyed him. Until it listened to what it wanted, reforming. He made his mother a gift, a beautiful flower made of metal he'd taken from borrowed coins, the metal shining a brilliant silver.

He'd been happy, until he'd made a mistake. Until he'd stopped a cart that was hurtling towards some children, and people had seen. People had known what he was. He'd hoped it would go away, that they'd forget.

He heard shouting, as his mother shook him awake. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and held him to her.  
"We have to leave," she whispered.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere you'll be safe." She led him out to where his father was waiting with a cart, and they hurtled away. He could hear shouting, and smell smoke, and feared what would happen next. He fell asleep in his mother's arms, hidden under a blanket.

It was the morning when he discovered his father was hurt, a deep cut in his side that had been caused as he'd tried to hold people back. And they journeyed onward, the three of them - and then, a week after they left behind his home, it was just him and his mother.

Max was ten years old when he dug his father's grave, and he and his mother spent some time at the graveside. He would sit in thought, and track his mother's movements by the clip in her hair. It felt, if not peaceful, then something close to it.

Eventually though, she decided they would move on. Their only hope was reaching somewhere he would be accepted.

***

They were close, when they came across a triumphant group of soldiers riding home from war, their leader and his favourite generals at the front, a blonde girl and a red-skinned young man. He remembered the man dressed in black, stopping their humble cart, sneering down at them. The blonde girl had leaned over from her own white horse, whispering in a foreign language, and then he'd looked them over.

"Mutants?" he asked.

Max's mother had nodded.  
"My son controls metal." 

"And you?" the man had asked, and she had shook her head, and he had laughed, reaching for a weapon.

Erik had panicked. The sword the man had reached for had melted in its scabbard, trickling down to the floor in a pool of silver.

The man looked at him, and shook his head, something close to sadness in his eyes.  
"I truly am sorry you did that, my boy."

The man nodded, and another soldier raised a dagger.

***

His mother lay dead. The king took the beautiful flower that his mother had loved, and handed it to the blonde girl beside him. She laughed, and put it in her hair, not looking his way. She rode away. 

Max couldn't look away from his mother's body, until a wide hand gripped his arm, searing pain bursting across his skin as he was lifted up onto horseback, and carried away.

Max knew he had caused this. He put his family at risk, and he hadn't known how to fight. His mother and his father were both dead, and it was because of his failings.

His mother had promised him that Genosha would be his home. 

The truth was, he didn't have a home any more.


End file.
